Oh My God, my ethics professor just asked us if we know any attitude towards the relationship of people and nature except the judeo-christian one, and I’m like…… thinking about Indigenous Americans…… because really, he should be telling us about them, and other cultures’ views on the matter.
“The citizens of a free state suffer themselves to be oppressed merely in proportion as, hurried on by a blind ambition, and looking rather below than above them, they come to love authority more than independence.”
- Jean-Jacques Rousseau, Discourse on Inequality
home in the form of a cream knitted jumper, hide me in the walls, slam the door in a hug
you’ll hold as tight as you can
i had an epiphany about storytelling on my way home. The stories that stick with me, have one central theme:
Good things can be inevitable, too.
Not just death, not just suffering, and war and fashism, but love and hope and breathing room and freedom. Maybe you are not the fated warrior to fullfill the prophecy and defeat evil, but someone will come, so it might as well be you!
And now I know whay that ancient greek dude was like, nooo the good guys always need to win in the play! Because fuck yeah! Show me a good time, make me believe in fiction what I am not brave enough to believe in real life. He and I had the same epiphany, and that too is inevitable. Recurring discussions, and reinventing the wheel, and hope finding it’s way into our media philosophies.
Self control… who needs more?
We stare into the gaps between the stars
Searching for the edge of the universe
And we’re trying to find the smallest parts
Of the spaces between the emptiness
And it’s all beyond us
We want to know the end of time
And what was before time began
The nature of our very minds
Why and what it means to question
We always ask for more
We are here and we’re hungry
For answers to literally everything
But for some reason every answer we find
Is never enough for our thirsty minds
And never are satisfied
An endless emptiness
That takes until its time
Behind any act of discourse (whether it be casual conversations, serving customers, debates or poetry) there seems to be a certain singular kind of motive for us participants.
There seems to be a universal desire which has always been circulating among us to continuously mould environments and social interactions into those of personal interest/benefit at each given moment (which is to say, regardless of whether or not we can even accurately picture or identify such things). An act of discourse is useful in performing this task, because through this act, its participant externalizes and organizes his/her thoughts so that they be made visible and recorded, and thus be later shared and reproduced in hopes of conquering the limitations of time and space beyond the present self. Any act of discourse, by its nature, therefore, is manipulative and political (even when it is expression for expression’s sake; for personal fulfillment). It is always a negotiation, a persuasion, a “please see what I am seeing” or “let’s confirm so and so.” We imply the setting (context) as we convey the message (content). I think we can furthermore expand this thought and recognize that this desire to continuously “shape the world” is actually what constitutes language and the other nonverbal signs of gesture themselves. Haven’t language and other signs always gradually developed over time to better suit our present needs to “sync” with one another and the collective “whole” of the given phase and sphere (again, regardless of whether or not it is possible for all of us to share the same picture)?
This ever present desire which is the ever present motive seems to be regularly taken for granted and instantly brushed aside as what is beyond our scope of observation and discussion. But I think regarding this desire as merely self-evident and “natural” (and perhaps even potentially benevolent) isn’t just naive idealism. It also often restricts us to empty fruitless discussions; mere rituals of routined exchange of contrasting views that have long been reduced to clichés from the seemingly forever irreconcilable parties. Such a series of discussions does not only fail to address the real issue, but can further escalate our confusion and conflict to dangerous proportions wherein exaggerated fears steadily turn to doomed reality.
Causality - the problem with induction
[MF: Yes, I don’t claim to kill others with my writing. I only write on the basis of the others’ already present death. When their life has turned into death, for me, the place where writing is possible - cont’d]
[CB: Does this explain why most of your texts are about systems of knowledge and modes of speech in the past? - cont’d]
MF [cont’d]: The topic we frequently find in all justifications of writing:
- that we write to bring something to life again
- that we write to rediscover the secret of life, or to actualize this living speech that is simultaneously of men and, probably, of God
— all this is deeply foreign to me.
- speech begins after death, and once that break has been established
- writing is a wandering after death and not a path to the source of life
It is in this sense that my language is profoundly anti-Christian, probably more so than the themes I continue to evoke.
– Michel Foucault, Speech Begins after Death, In Conversation with Claude Bonnefoy, 1968, edited by Philippe Artièred, translated by Robert Bononno
From time to time I feel myself compelled by what Hitchens refers to as the Religious Impulse, otherwise called a Need for the Numinous. But, like Hitchens, I find myself to be one of those souls built without the ability to believe. I was not born with whatever exists within some people that allows them to believe. I do wish I had the capacity to believe - I’m sure it’s very nice for those that have it. And I think I would make a remarkable minister.
We are all born with designated bodies. The shape of our flesh dictates and drives actions inflicted upon it as a result of ancient indoctrination. And we accept this as unchangeable, when infact we are the owners. We are not obliged to accept. It is the betrayal of our own flesh which destroys our soul. ~ Maeve
We all have these its in our lives where,
Whether in the foreground
Or in the background,
We cannot escape it,
No matter what ground we go to.
We often say,
“I’ve put it behind me…”
Yet when it comes up,
If we haven’t done the work
to complete it,
It is still there,
Like a monkey on our back,
Hemming us in,
A barrier we constantly run into.
Even though we don’t think it is.